A Hundred Moments
by The First Noelle
Summary: This is a collection of drabbles written from prompts found on LiveJournal. They are mostly from Sweeney or Mrs. Lovett's point of view, though there will be the odd exception. Many have at least a hint of Sweenett!
1. Beginnings

Author's Note: This drabble is the first of (hopefully) many

_**Author's Note:**__ This drabble is the first of (hopefully) many. Some of them will take place after the ending of the musical/movie in an alternate universe, assuming that Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney did not die. Most of these will have some hint of Sweenett, if it isn't blatantly obvious. I will try to remember to tell you before each of the chapters. Some will be rather short, while others may be longer, since I'm writing this in my classes I can never predict when my muse will strike. Reviews are appreciated!!_

_This first one is a mere 300 or so words. Sorry!! Oh, and it's from Sweeney's point of view, if that's not obvious.  
_

_**Disclaimer**__: Sadly, nothing belongs to me…_

The beginning can be pinpointed to one minute, one exact second. He got it. It was pure genius, really, the perfect solution to, well, everything! No one would know, as long as they were careful. He would be able to slit throats as he pleased, and Mrs. Lovett would finally have something other than vomit-inducing slop to put into her pies.

He crossed the room towards her. This was her idea. Her brilliant, wonderful idea.

All of his previous impressions of her were erased. An idea like that showed that she was so much more than she had first appeared. How had he ever thought her shallow or dimwitted?

He reached her and pulled her to him, leading her in a waltz. A small smile pulled at his mouth, making his skin feel like it didn't fit on his face. Had the years not been so hard on him, he might have even laughed.

And to think that this lift in his spirits, which were higher than they'd been since he'd escaped Australia, had been caused by this woman, by this wonderful, beautiful woman. By Mrs. Lovett, of all people!


	2. Endings

Disclaimer: I, once again, own nothing…well, except this beautiful horse named Rio

_**Disclaimer: **__I, once again, own nothing…well, except this beautiful horse named Rio!! …but nothing to do with Sweeney Todd, that all belongs to Sondheim, etc., including all of the dialogue in this chapter._

"So let's keep living it! Just keep living it! Really living it!"

The mask of forgiveness fell from his face, the malicious glint returning to his eyes. She only had a second to realize it and her smile had only just begun to fade when he lifted her off her feet and flung her into the furnace.

He paused for a moment, watching her burn. He was actually going to miss – No!

Before he could finish the thought, he snarled at what was left of her and slammed the door shut, not caring as the hot metal burned his hand. Slowly, he turned to the beggar woman. Lucy. He had killed his Lucy.

He knelt down next to her, slowly, carefully lifting her limp body to his own. With shaking fingers, he gently pushed the hair out of her face. He sang softly to her, much like he had many years ago when they had both been so full of life.

"There was a barber and his wife and she was beautiful. A foolish barber and his wife. She was his reason and his life and she was beautiful."

There was a slight scraping noise behind him.

"And she was virtuous. And he was –"

Footsteps behind him. He never saw Toby, but somehow he knew. His lip twitched slightly, the hint of a smile. Yes, it was fitting. The same razors that had created Sweeney Todd should be the ones to unmake him.

The blade was drawn quickly across his neck, and he closed his eyes, welcoming the pain. He opened his eyes, looking down. Already, the edges of his vision were beginning to blur.

He smiled faintly, and a shadow of Benjamin Barker crossed his face. Fitting, that the last thing he should se would be the only one he ever loved.

_Good-bye…Lucy._


	3. Insides

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Sweeney or Mrs

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Sweeney or Mrs. Lovett…sigh**

The first day was certainly the worst. The new smell radiating down Fleet Street drew two people the first day, most still driven away from the shop from the rumors of the worst pies in London.

It was so hard to idly chat and smile at these men while she knew what was really inside of those pies. Here were two men perfectly happy to sit and eat their own kind. Well, and stare down the front of her dress, but that was beside the point.

That day, she was distracted enough to actually forget to bring any food to her tenant. He didn't complain, though, and Mrs. Lovett simply assumed that he didn't even notice. He didn't eat much anyway.

He did notice.

When she came up to his tonsorial parlor, he was standing by the window sharpening his razors. He turned when the bell on the door rang, knowing that the chances of a customer this early were very slim. He carefully set his razors down on the table.

"Here you are, love," said Mrs. Lovett, placing the small breakfast tray down on a table near the door. The false cheer in her tone was obvious, as were the unusually dark circles under her eyes. He also noticed that she refused to meet his gaze. She turned to leave, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked, clearly not intent on attempting to converse with him.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

"Yes, love?" she said, a nervous smile playing around her lips. He walked up to her, gently cupping her face in his hand. Her eyes widened in surprise, as he hadn't been one for physical contact save when they danced on the day they came up with this plan.

"Remember that your customers are no less filthy than mine," he said, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he spoke. Then he gently moved his hand from her face to her neck and guided her out the door.

He watched from his window as she slowly made her way back to the pie shop, no doubt processing what had just happened. He hoped it would be enough to keep her going; he wasn't much for this sentimental stuff.

Picking up his breakfast, he made his way to the back window. He didn't glance at the bread before he bit into it, but he _was_ glad when he found that there were no meat products at all inside.

A/N: You really have no idea how difficult it was to come up with something for Sweeney to say that wasn't too personal or caring but that wasn't too harsh either. I hope he stayed in character…Please review!!

**Oh, and if you have any suggestions for prompts, please say so!!**


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